


Having Snape's Baby

by linlawless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linlawless/pseuds/linlawless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione, devastated by Ron's betrayal and an offhand comment he made about her suitability as a mother, comes up with a desperate plan to show him he's wrong. Problem is, she's chosen Snape to father her baby -- without his knowledge. When someone else finds out and tries to blackmail Hermione, the house of cards she's been building comes crashing down around her. How will she cope?  I've included a dub-con warning due to a scene in the prologue in which one character gets another drunk and sexual activity ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP that I was posting at my personal archive on Proboards until the Proboards Admin people complained that I had violated their TOS by posting adult content. I'm going to gradually migrate it here. That said, it really is a WIP, and although I have every intention of finishing it, I can't say how long that will take ...

**Having Snape’s Baby**

**Prologue**

Hermione pushed aside her anxiety, took a deep breath, and stared at the door to the Potions classroom. She wished she could have thought of another way—another place. It would seem so much less contrived if she could have run into him somewhere else. He could have believed it was an accident. As it was, he would never believe it was an accident now.

Ruthlessly repressing the thought, she reminded herself that he would never really know, anyway. She had thought of every possibility – had accounted for every contingency. The plan she had developed was her best bet. It would work. It had to.

Of course, he would be resistant at first—when was he ever anything  _but_ contrary? She had even taken that into account as she had made her plans.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, then prepared quickly, lest he arrive before she was ready.

* * *

In his quarters, Severus frowned as the ward alarm in the Potions classroom rang out. These days, he warded it purely as a matter of habit, not because there was any real need. Students generally knew better than to disturb anything he might consider part of his personal domain.

Well, most of them did, he amended, frown deepening as he thought of the exceptions. Pushing himself to his feet, he wondered gloomily what sort of trouble Potter and his friends had gotten themselves into this time, and why they thought breaking into his classroom would help. All the most potent supplies were obviously in the storeroom, and as seventh-years, they certainly knew it by now.

Regardless, he would do his duty and get them out of whatever trouble they had found. Again.

But there was nothing that said he couldn’t ensure they knew how very displeased he was about it all.

* * *

By the time he stormed in, Hermione was ready. She had cast several charms—most of her own making—over herself. He would never suspect.

She hoped.

“Miss Granger!” he barked. “What is the meaning of this?”

She hastily wiped her eyes. The Sympathy-Inducing Charm was working beautifully—not that she actually expected sympathy, but she wanted him to think that others might feel sympathy, even if he didn’t. Her eyes welled up again. “Wh-what? Oh, er, Professor Snape! I didn’t expect —that is, I—”

His eyes narrowed, and she hoped she hadn’t overplayed the charm. He said, “Stop your sniveling and answer me, Miss Granger. What are you doing in my classroom at this hour? And with  _that_?” His eyes lasered toward the unopened bottle she had in her hand, and the glass sitting on the desk in front of her.

She blushed. “Oh, er, well, you see, sir …” The next charm—an Embarrassed Explanation Charm—kicked in, and she said in a rush, “Well, sir, I thought you had rounds tonight and I wanted to be alone and I figured no one but you would come here and I would be long gone by the time you came back.”

“That does not explain why you have Firewhisky, Miss Granger.”

“Oh, er, yes, well,  _that._ ” She said, “It’s two days ’til the Leaving Feast, and NEWTs are done and it hasn’t been a great day. And I just …” He raised an eyebrow when she paused. When he said nothing, she continued. “I don’t suppose you could forget about this, sir? I’ll just go back to my room and …”

* * *

Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only was this the most pathetic babbling he had ever heard cross Miss Granger’s lips, but now she was asking him to forget about the whole thing?

“Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for being where you shouldn’t. And an additional fifty, for asking such a ridiculous question.” She blushed and made to pick up the Firewhisky. He noted that she still hadn’t told him why she had it, or where she had gotten it. “And don’t bother picking that up, Miss Granger. Or did you seriously believe I would allow you to leave here with contraband?” Her blush deepened, and he added snidely, “Another twenty points, Miss Granger. Perhaps you should return to your room before you cost your House more points than they’ve earned this year.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and made to leave. At the door, she said, “It’s too bad, really. I didn’t even get to taste it before you arrived, and I hear it’s very good.”

“Consider yourself fortunate, Miss Granger, that you obviously haven’t opened it—you’d have lost at least double the points if you had.”

“I could just get rid of it,” she said cautiously, raising her wand.

“You will do no such thing,” he said. “Consider this my compensation for having my peaceful evening disrupted. Now, begone.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and left.

* * *

Out in the hallway, she allowed a small smile to cross her lips. Rather than heading back to her room, she sat and waited. He must be distracted, as he didn’t immediately reset the wards. Not that it would matter if he had, of course, she thought smugly.

She pulled out Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, so that no one who might happen along the corridor would catch her out after curfew. She had asked to borrow the cloak, explaining that she sometimes had insomnia and would like to be able to slip into the Restricted Section after hours. Harry had tried to remind her that with NEWTs over, she hardly needed to study anymore, but she had said in her most superior tone, "Learning needn’t end simply because tests do." Harry had rolled his eyes and yielded.

Arranging the cloak around herself, she checked to see what Professor Snape was doing, which she could do because of the very first charm she had executed upon entering the room. She was rather proud of the Eyes and Ears Charm, actually—it allowed her to leave a bit of her essence in the room, which could be used to see and hear from the hallway what he was doing in the classroom. She had even had the foresight to set it to follow him, so that if he left the classroom, she wouldn’t lose her advantage—or her access. All in all, it was far superior to using Extendable Ears.

No point in risking even more points, after all.

She settled in to watch him. He picked up the bottle and looked at it. She really hoped he would drink it. This was another of the details of her plan that required a bit of luck. Fortunately, after examining it carefully, he smirked, then opened it and poured two fingers into the glass. With the mocking smirk still in place he lifted the glass in a toast. “Here’s to you, Miss Granger.”

* * *

Severus sipped the Firewhisky. She was right: it was one of the better brands. He wondered briefly what had led her to bring it here, of all places. As Head Girl, she certainly could have been alone in her own room—although he supposed she hadn’t wanted to risk being caught with contraband in her own quarters. That would, after all, be a more serious offense.

Although he generally didn’t bother with idle speculations, he allowed his mind free rein as he sat at his desk, sipping his drink. He wondered where she had gotten the Firewhisky in the first place, and why she had felt she needed it enough to risk being caught with it. He wondered, further, why she had looked so sad and alone when he had come into the room before hastily pulling herself together and attempting to put on a brave face.

 _No matter_ , he admonished himself. Whatever was going on was irrelevant to him—he would have to actually care in order to continue to indulge these ridiculous meanderings of mind. He tossed back the last of his drink, then decided abruptly he may as well be comfortable. He took the bottle and headed back toward his private quarters, muttering the various passwords as he went.

* * *

From beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione smiled smugly. Her charm was working perfectly. She had memorized each password in order as he spoke them. Now all she had to do was wait until he was good and foxed.

Settling down, she allowed her thoughts to drift as she waited. They drifted back to the moment, three months prior, when this desperate plan was born.

_Humming softly to herself, Hermione headed toward the Common Room, hoping to surprise Ron by virtue of having left the library early this evening. It was, after all, his birthday, and she had decided to do the occasion right. She had snuck into the Astronomy Tower earlier, and had spent an hour decorating it for a magical night of romance—and, dare she say it?—sex! He had waited long enough for her to be ready, she had decided, and she knew that this would be the best birthday present she could possibly give him._

_Stepping into the Common Room at last, she looked around eagerly, eyes searching for her boyfriend. She had expected to see him playing Exploding Snap, or perhaps Wizard’s Chess, with Harry. He was nowhere to be found, however. Sighing, she realized she would have to go look for him. She was just leaving the room when she heard a noise from a nearby closet._

_It sounded like some couple snogging—she wondered why they hadn’t executed a Silencing Charm. As Head Girl, she supposed she should really check, as uncomfortable as that particular duty could be. Sighing, she opened the door, bracing herself to reprimand the unfortunate pair._

_When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could only gasp. The pair sprang apart, looking guilty._

“ _Hermione!” Ron gasped. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear! It—”_

_Anguish slammed into her, but she shoved it aside to be dealt with later. Collecting herself, Hermione determined not to let them see her cry. Ron? With Lavender? In a closet? “What else could it possibly be, Ron?”_

_Lavender smirked triumphantly. “Well, Hermione, it’s quite clear that you weren’t taking care of Ron’s needs, so he was forced to turn to me.”_

_Ron was still spluttering explanations. “No! That’s not— Hermione, you know I love you. I do! It’s just …”_

“ _It’s just what?” Hermione interrupted. “It’s just that you can’t keep your trousers zipped around this slut? It’s just that you thought I was safely tucked away in the library? It’s just that you thought you could have a birthday shag and I would never be the wiser?”_

_He said, “No, I swear, it wasn’t like that …”_

_Lavender interrupted him. “Don’t kid yourself, Hermione—Ron needs a real woman, and he knows it even if he won’t admit it. You’re too busy with your mouldy books to keep a real man happy. And by the way, this isn’t just a birthday shag. Ron and I have been at it for months—and I can prove it, too!”_

“ _Don’t bother on my account,” Hermione ground out. “You want him, he’s yours. Just remember, Lavender, you chose a lying, cheating weasel, so don’t be surprised that that’s what you’ve got.”_

“ _No!” Ron yelled. “It was just this one time. I had too much butterbeer and I didn’t know what I was doing!”_

“ _Oh?” asked Lavender silkily. “Then how is it that I’m two months pregnant?” Hermione stifled a gasp, and Lavender continued, twisting the knife. “Deep down, Ron knows you’re not cut out for marriage and motherhood, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. So, consciously or not, he turned to me. And as soon as he comes around to the idea, we shall be married and starting our happy, cosy family, while you—well, I suppose you’ll still be all wrapped up in your mouldy books.” She swept out, and Hermione stared at Ron, who looked positively green. The pregnancy seemed as much a shock to him as it was to her._

“ _Hermione, I swear, it’s—”_

“ _Save it, Ron,” she snapped. “Do you honestly think there’s anything you could say—anything at all—that would fix this?”_

“ _But—”_

“ _Don’t talk to me, Ron. Don’t look at me, don’t come near me, don’t even think of me. Not now, not ever,” she spat. “You’re not who I thought you were. I don’t know who you are, that’s clear, and I don’t even want to, anymore.”_

“ _Don’t let Lavender ruin everything, Hermione!” he blurted. “Just because you’re not cut out to be a mother doesn’t mean—”_

_It wasn’t until much later that the latter comment sunk in, because she was stuck on his utter stupidity about who had ruined what. “Lavender didn’t ruin anything, Ron—you did!” Turning, she left him with his trousers—and his mouth—hanging dumbly open._

_Hours later, as Hermione sat alone in the Astronomy Tower, having cried until she had no more tears, she replayed the entire scene one last time, and for the first time, his final comment registered. So, he didn’t believe she was cut out to be a mother? What had she done, all these years, if not take care of him and Harry?_

_Slowly, her pain morphed into anger, then coalesced into an icy, hard rage. She would show him, and Lavender, and everyone else. She would show them all._

Snapping herself back to the present, Hermione took several calming breaths, then checked on Snape. Coming along nicely, she decided. In fact, his guard was probably down enough by now that she could risk entering the classroom. Then she could remove the Invisibility Cloak, which, even in the cool of the dungeon, was making her uncomfortably warm.

She quickly disabled the wards and entered, then sighed with relief as she removed the cloak. She sat down, then quickly cast one more spell. It was a complicated one, because she needed it to carry the magical signature of a Contraceptive Charm, even though it was actually a Fertility Charm. Once completed, all she had to do was have sex in the next twelve hours, and she would become pregnant. She idly wondered if Lavender might have done something similar, but dismissed the idea because the other girl simply wasn’t that smart. No, she had probably relied instead on Ron’s impulsive carelessness.

She checked in on Snape again. He looked nearly ready to pass out. Perfect!

 _Now or never,_ she told herself, ignoring the little voice that whispered, ‘This is a very, very bad idea …’

Disarming the wards, she let herself into Snape’s private quarters, transfiguring her clothing as she went. By the time she stood before him, with his bleary eyes looking at her, her usual robes had been replaced with a shorter, tighter, sexier version.

He said, “Miss Granger, I thought I sent you to bed. Why are you back here?”

She giggled. “Don’t ask me, Professor, I’m  _your_ hallucination. Or do you really think I’d be wandering into your rooms by accident, looking like this?”

“No, I suppose not,” he mused aloud. “How would you get past the wards?”

“Right. So, since you’ve apparently conjured me here as your little fantasy, what will you do with me?”

“What do I usually do with you?” he purred, then held up a hand. “Come here.”

She couldn’t keep her eyes from widening slightly. He had fantasized about her before? Of their own volition, her legs carried her toward him, and she took his hand. When he tugged her down into his lap, a breathless laugh escaped her, and then he started kissing her, and she quite forgot everything else except the overwhelming need to kiss him back.

* * *

Severus enjoyed his little fantasy—he always did. Sometimes, she was dressed in white lace, sometimes, in black leather. And sometimes, like tonight, she was in her school robes, with a mischievous grin and a rapid pulse. Kissing her, something niggled at his brain—something seemed not quite right about his fantasy tonight, but he was too foxed to figure out what it was. Much more fun to simply play with his fantasy.

And play he did. He kissed her for a long while, enjoying the feel of her tongue dueling with his, while he caressed her everywhere, first through her clothes, then while removing them by hand, and finally, with nothing between them at all.

Her inexpert, yet enthusiastic response was even more arousing than usual. She squirmed and moaned against him, begging him to take her, to relieve the ache he was quite deliberately creating, but he enjoyed drawing out the pleasure for both of them.

At last, when he could wait no longer, he entered her, finding her even tighter than his imagination usually made her.  _So,_ he thought,  _I’ve made her a virgin this time …_  He was surprised by that—usually his fantasies didn’t involve the need to go slow so as not to hurt her. Still, perhaps he should imagine this more often—the pleasure was nearly overwhelming. Giving himself up to it, he began to move inside her, increasing his own pleasure as he drew from her cries of desire, then of ecstasy. At last, he could hold back no more, and he spilled himself inside her, crying out his own hoarse shout of completion.

As his breathing slowed, little things began to penetrate his consciousness—things that didn’t add up. For one, he could smell her—a soft, feminine essence mingled with the scents of lavender and vanilla. For another, by this time, she would normally have disappeared from his mind—not remained locked in his embrace, with his cock still inside her. And the discomfort of the wet spot on the bed would have made him rouse himself to execute a Cleansing Charm.

Frowning darkly, he pulled back to look at her. She stared at him apprehensively, solidifying in his mind that this was indeed real, rather than a fantasy. Jumping away as though she were burning him, he barked for the second time that evening, “Miss Granger, what is the meaning of this?” For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just stared at his naked body. He added, “ _Accio_  robe,” and he felt marginally more in control of the situation once he was covered.

That couldn’t have been disappointment in her eyes, could it? Whatever it was, it was so quickly gone that he put it from his mind. Watching her, he could almost see the wheels turning as she decided what to say. At last, she said, “I don’t know, Professor, this is your fantasy.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “If this was a fantasy of mine, Miss Granger, you would no longer be here.” Hurt flashed in her eyes, and he thought perhaps he should have worded that differently. Nevertheless, he didn’t try to correct her misinterpretation.

After another long moment, she said, “Fine, then. Perhaps this is  _my_ fantasy.”

“Miss Granger,” he warned. “Do not attempt to dissemble. What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

“Oh, um …” He could again see her trying to decide what to say.

“The truth, Miss Granger!” he thundered, and was gratified to see her jump. Certainly, he would get the truth now.

* * *

“All right, all right,” Hermione grumbled. She had been enjoying the aftermath of the most amazing experience of her life when she had felt him realize this was no fantasy. “I’ll tell you, since you’re so determined.” She drew a deep breath, unsure of where to start. Not that it would ultimately matter, she decided, but it would be best to keep him distracted while she executed the rest of her plans.

She realized she had been quiet too long when he said, “Miss Granger, if you don’t start explaining immediately, I will use Legilimency to determine what’s what. And lest you think you can Occlude me, I assure you that you are not that skilled.”

“No, sir,” she said hastily. “I was just deciding where to begin.” She paused once more, but then she caught his dark look and blurted, “I cast a charm that allowed me to see and hear you from the hallway.”

“You did  _what_?” he asked in a strangled tone.

She flinched, then squared her shoulders and said, “If you want me to tell you, you had best stop glaring at me and interrupting all the time.” She noticed absently that his eyes had dropped considerably lower than her face and cursed the rush of heat that sent through her. She tugged the sheet up, suddenly feeling very exposed.

He said, “What kind of charm did you use? I know of no charm that would allow for such eavesdropping.”

“Oh, er, well, I invented it myself. I knew I would need it to get in here.”

“To what purpose?” he asked. “Is your intention to ruin my career in retribution for my treatment of you and your friends over the years?”

“What? No!” she exclaimed. She assumed he believed her when his shoulders relaxed slightly. “I just—um, I wanted—” she felt herself blush, as she waved an arm helplessly “—this. I wanted  _you_. And I didn’t think just asking you would work.” She climbed out of bed, dragging the sheet with her, and crossed to pick up her wand. She quickly used it to clean and then clothe herself.

“So you took matters into your own hands?” he asked skeptically. “You invented a charm to allow you to break into my private quarters because you wanted to seduce me? You were a virgin, Miss Granger—no, don’t try to deny it,” he added, when she started to shake her head. His expression changed, and he demanded, “Did you even think to use a Contraceptive Charm, you stupid child?”

“Yes, I did!” she blurted back. “See for yourself, if you don’t believe me.” She was slightly offended when he waved a hand over her to check for himself, which was ridiculous, all things considered. Fortunately, the charm worked as intended, as he seemed to notice nothing amiss. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to distract him. She said petulantly, “Anyway, I’m not stupid, and as you now clearly know, I’m not a child, either.”

“Be that as it may,” Snape replied, “This is utter foolishness. You were certainly correct that I would not have agreed to this had I not been deceived. It was not well done of you, Miss Granger, and you will certainly be sorry for it before long.”

She forced herself to cross the room to stand in front of him, knowing that she would need to be close, if it came to it. She tried to read his expression. Perhaps this was an act—after the intimacies they had just shared, it was hard to believe he was as angry as all that. She gathered her Gryffindor courage and ventured, “Just how angry are you?”

* * *

The question hung in the air between them. Severus didn’t know quite how to answer. On the one hand, he should be furious—she had plotted and planned and seduced him without so much as a ‘by your leave,’ and he knew he should be livid about it.

The problem was, he was feeling too content at the moment to devote the necessary energy to being angry. He was also, much to his chagrin, wishing she hadn’t been quite so quick to dress again.

Still, she didn’t need to know that, did she? He glowered at her. “You don’t really wish me to answer that, do you, Miss Granger?”

Resignation washed over her features, and she whispered something, so softly that it took him a moment to register her words. “I had hoped … well, so be it, then,” and before he could ask her anything else, she raised her wand to his temple and said a single word.

“Obliviate.”

Fury flared and died as he lost consciousness, watching emotions – regret, sorrow, resolve – flit across her face.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus is frustrated by his poor memory, while Hermione does some research.

**Chapter 1**

Hermione slumped over the toilet, wishing—not for the first time in the past two months—that she had thought things through a bit more carefully. What could possibly have induced her to think that being unwed and pregnant by a man who had no memory of the conception would be a good idea?

Or maybe that was the morning sickness talking.

The funny thing was, most of the time, she really didn’t mind her circumstances. In fact, her primary feeling toward the baby she carried was a bright, happy, loving feeling that touched her soul in a way nothing else ever had. Really, she only found herself less than thrilled by the situation when the sickness hit.

Or, probably, when Harry or her parents were pestering her to tell them who had fathered the baby—which she was certain they would do, just as soon as she worked up the nerve to tell them the happy news.

Or when she woke from a deep sleep, heart pounding, pulse racing, her entire body in a cold sweat, unable to remember much about her dream—except for the accusatory look on Professor Snape's face as he raised his wand and pointed it out her. She always woke before he could utter the curse or hex that it was clear would be forthcoming … 

Now, she pushed her dark thoughts aside. It was clearly just anxiety about how her family and friends would react combined with residual guilt for the way she had duped the professor. But her family and friends loved her, so they would support her in the end, right? And as for Professor Snape, he would never know, so it couldn't hurt him, could it? 

For now, the sickness had passed at last, so she stood, rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth, and headed back to her bedroom to get dressed. 

Fortunately, she had always found time to mutter a quick Silencing Charm before the retching started, so her parents didn’t suspect anything. She had been staying with them for the summer as she attempted to decide what to do next. It had occurred to her, rather belatedly, that going to university might be a challenge with a baby around.

And what kind of job was she qualified for? She had finished Hogwarts, of course, and several of her professors had suggested she consider apprenticing with them, but that, too, might prove awkward once the baby came. Especially if it looked like Professor Snape.

She really ought to have thought things through a bit more. Still, something would work out. She was sure of it.

* * *

Severus sat hunched over his desk in his office. Something teased at the edges of his mind—a memory, perhaps, that was just out of reach. Whenever he turned his mind to examine it directly, it eluded him, which was very frustrating.

It had been there, hovering at the outskirts of his consciousness, for the past two months. Ever since the night he had gotten drunk on the Firewhisky he had caught Miss Granger with in his classroom. He assumed he must have blacked out, but that seemed odd, considering he had consumed that much Firewhisky many times before without ever blacking out. He would have concluded that Miss Granger had in some way drugged him, but he remembered quite clearly that the bottle had been sealed, and anyway, he would have noticed anything amiss about the taste or smell.

And she had left before he had begun to drink.

Still, something was different. He had fantasised about her when drinking numerous times before that night, but the fantasies and dreams he had been having since then had a different quality to them. They were more vivid. More visceral.

And they weren’t entirely sexual anymore, either. No, they included flirtation, and teasing, and _cuddling_ , of all things. He _didn’t_ cuddle—had never even _wanted_ to cuddle—so why would he dream of cuddling? 

In any event, because of the frustration he felt at knowing there was something important he could not remember, he had not had a single glass of Firewhisky in the past two months. He doubted he would ever wish to do so again, which was a crying shame, in his opinion. Good Firewhisky had been one of the few pleasures he used to allow himself. Other than terrorizing students, of course, but it was summer just now, so that pleasure was denied him, too, at the moment.

Since his every attempt to remember had failed, he decided he would have to come at it less directly. Eventually, he was certain, he would discover just what he might have forgotten.

* * *

Later that day, Hermione decided to go down to Diagon Alley and see if they had any books that might be useful to her in her new condition. Perhaps she could find a potion that would eliminate this awful nausea. Had she been thinking clearly, she would have researched this _before_ she got herself pregnant, but she had been so focused on formulating and executing her plan that she hadn’t considered what actually _being_ pregnant might be like.

Now, she entered Flourish and Blotts and headed for the Potions section. She found a few tomes that looked promising and found a chair to sit in while she perused them. She quickly became engrossed, as usual, and she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late.

“Miss Granger,” a silky voice said. Her head shot up, and she felt the blood drain from her face, then surge back rapidly. “I’m surprised to find you here.” She couldn’t respond immediately, because she was desperately trying to recall whether the books at her feet were showing their titles.

He raised an eyebrow, and she forced herself to laugh. “Oh, Professor Snape! You startled me! Although why you should be surprised to find me in a bookshop, I can’t imagine.” As nonchalantly as possible, she shifted so that her robes fell across the books at her feet, and she covered the one in her lap with her arms. “What brings you here?”

Eyes narrowed, he responded, “A new book on esoteric potions has just been published, and I thought to examine it. And you?”

“Oh, I … I just like books.”

He nodded once, then said, “I’ll leave you to your perusals, then. Good day, Miss Granger.”

“Good day, sir.” When he rounded the corner, she let out her breath in a whoosh, then took several slow, deep breaths as her heart rate gradually returned to normal before picking up the books from the floor and placing them in a neat stack on her lap.

* * *

Once out of sight of Miss Granger, Severus took up a position where he could watch her without her knowledge. Something wasn’t right with her behaviour, and he was determined to discover what it was.

She slumped back into her chair for few minutes, then picked up the books at her feet and set them on her lap. She turned them upside down and twisted them so that the spines faced toward her body. He had the distinct impression that she didn’t want him to know what she was reading. He wondered if it was just him or if she would have tried to prevent anyone who happened past from seeing the titles of the books she held.

He watched her read for a while, and then eventually, she finished examining the books. She stood and put three of them back, taking the remaining two with her. She paid for them and left the shop. As soon as she was gone, he approached the clerk.

“What did that woman purchase?” he asked.

“I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot divulge that. We take our customers’ privacy very seriously here at Flourish and Blotts.”

Sighing, Severus pulled several Galleons out of his waistcoat and began absently tossing and catching them. “I had thought to buy her some additional books on whatever subject she’s interested in, but I suppose, if I’m not to know which ones she purchased for herself …”

As he had expected, avarice shone in the man’s expression. “Well, I don’t suppose it would be a problem, _if_ you were a friend of hers?” he asked hopefully.

“Naturally,” Severus agreed. “Why would I wish to purchase books for a woman I didn’t know?” Still, the man hesitated, so he pressed. “I’ve been trying to find a way to impress her …”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you say you were courting her?” the man responded gleefully. “Although perhaps you’re past the courting stage.” Severus frowned, not following until the man added. “Well, if you’re not the father, I can’t imagine why you’d be wanting to purchase books on potions suitable for pregnant women. Unless, of course, she needed them for some other reason,” he added when Severus scowled. 

He didn’t even protest when Severus dropped a single Galleon on the counter and stalked out of the shop without purchasing anything.

* * *

Hermione hurried toward the Leaky Cauldron, where she was meeting Harry for tea. He was starting Auror training next week and would soon be very busy – far too busy to meet her like this. She was looking forward to seeing him, although she was concerned, slightly, that he might realize she was keeping a huge secret.

If he did, he would never let her get away with keeping it secret.

Stepping into the pub, she looked around and spied him waiting for her in the far corner. He waved, and she smiled as she made her way over to him. She slid into the booth opposite him. “Harry, it’s so great to see you! How have you been?”

“Great, actually, although I’m quite looking forward to starting training. I’ve had enough of rest and relaxation for a while.” His tone said that, in his opinion, “rest and relaxation” fell into the same category as “partying with Death Eaters”.

She laughed. “I’m sure you have. You were never one to sit still for long, were you?”

He smiled. “Listen, I mentioned to Ginny that I was meeting you, and she wanted to come by and say hello. Is that all right?” He looked anxious.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d love to see Ginny. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“Well, with how things ended between you and Ron …”

“Harry, my quarrel is with Ron, not Ginny. Not that I would want to go to the Burrow just now, but …”

“Oh, but –” he stopped suddenly. “Never mind.”

“But what?” she asked. “You may as well tell me. If you don’t, I’ll just ask Ginny when she gets here.”

He sighed, then said gently. “Ron isn’t living at the Burrow anymore, Hermione. He and Lavender … well …”

“Oh,” she said past the sudden lump in her throat. “Did they finally get married, then?”

He nodded, then took her hand. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She forced a smile to her face. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I knew it was coming, didn’t I? She _was_ pregnant, after all.” The bile was rising, and she swallowed hard, but it didn’t help. She suddenly knew if she didn’t get to the loo immediately, she would embarrass herself. She slid out of the booth, knocking over the package of books she had set beside her, and dashed to the back of the pub without saying anything more, barely making it before she started heaving.

When she returned to the table, Harry was staring, white-faced, at the two books he had apparently retrieved from the floor. “Harry, I can explain—” she began, but he cut her off.

“You’re pregnant? You?” His tone reflected utter disbelief. “But—how? _Who_? Not—not Ron? Not after everything?”

“What?!” she exclaimed. “ _No_ , not Ron. Do you seriously think I would—after _everything_?”

“Well, then, _who_? And why haven’t I met him? And why hasn’t he done the right thing?” His voice rose with each question.

“Keep your voice down, Harry! I don’t want everyone in Diagon Alley to know my business. And as for who—that’s _my_ business, and I don’t care to share it at the moment. Maybe I never will.”

“But, Hermione, he has a responsibility!”

“No, Harry, he doesn’t. This was my doing. Mine. Not his, not anyone else’s. Just mine.”

“Well, you didn’t do it alone, did you?”

“Close enough to it that it might as well have been,” she snapped. “Now, let’s discuss something else.”

“But what will you do? You were supposed to be going to a Muggle university, weren’t you? Or starting an apprenticeship at Hogwarts? Or—or—”

“I’m going to get a job,” Hermione declared firmly. “I can do this, Harry, it’ll be fine, you’ll see. I’ll be a good mother.” She hated the defensiveness that colored her words.

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t,” Harry bit back. “But why on earth did you, of all people forget to use a Contraceptive Charm? Or was it a Muggle? Was that it?”

“I’m not discussing this, Harry. Change the subject or I’m leaving.”

“But—” he started to protest, but when she grabbed her books and made to stand up, he grabbed her wrist. “All right, all right. I’m not happy about it, but I’ll leave it alone for now.” She sat stiffly back into her seat. He took a deep breath, released it, then asked earnestly, “You know I’m here for you, right, Hermione? No matter what?”

She relaxed. “Yes, Harry, I know. I just need to figure this out for myself right now.”

“But you’ll let me know if I can help you, right?” he persisted.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, offering him a small smile. “Who else would I count on?” She changed the subject. “Now, how are things between you and Ginny?”

* * *

From the table behind them, Severus puzzled over the discussion he had shamelessly eavesdropped on. When he had left the bookshop, he had intended to just forget about Miss Granger and what interest she might have in pregnancy potions. In an effort to do that, he had decided to head to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink and a bite.

When he had stepped in, just in time to see Hermione race for the loo, he had, almost without conscious thought, headed for the booth that backed up to her seat. Potter was staring so intently at the books that Severus had thought, for a moment, that Potter might be the baby’s father.

But, when Miss Granger had returned, it had immediately become clear that he definitely wasn’t. The discussion simply didn’t allow for that possibility. And Miss Granger had sounded thoroughly disgusted and shocked at the mere suggestion it might be Weasley, so the two most likely culprits appeared to be ruled out.

He wondered who else it might be. She hadn’t shown any particular preference for any of the boys at Hogwarts, other than the two who had already been ruled out. Perhaps that dunderhead who had escorted her to the Yule Ball a few years back?

He wondered idly how far along she was.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t immediately notice the Weasley girl’s arrival. Not until she said brightly, “Hermione! It’s been ages!”

“Ginny!” Granger’s voice was warm and welcoming, and it seemed to trigger a wisp of memory. Pushing it aside, he concentrated on eavesdropping. Perhaps the Weasley girl could get her to say.

Unfortunately, they prattled on about nothing useful for several minutes—long enough to raise a question in Severus’s mind: _Why do I care? It’s not as though I’m going to do anything about it, is it?_

Before he found an answer to his own question, the topic shifted. “There’s something Hermione wants to tell you,” Harry said. “Ow!” he exclaimed, which led Severus to believe that Miss Granger had assaulted the prat in some way. At least the thought of _that_ was pleasant, Severus mused.

The Weasley girl was speaking. “What? What’s going on?”

Severus heard Granger sigh. “Thanks a _lot_ , Harry. Did it ever occur to you that I might not be ready to talk about this with the entire world quite yet?”

“Hermione,” Potter placated, “Ginny’s not the entire world—she’s one of your best friends. And you need your friends, now more than ever.”

“Would someone just tell me, already? I won’t tell anyone else, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Severus almost snorted. She didn’t seem the sort to be discreet—was always giggling and whispering with her friends. 

Still, Miss Granger must have been reassured, because she said, “Fine, but you really can’t tell anyone, Gin. I just can’t deal with everyone knowing yet.”

“All right,” Weasley said impatiently.

“I’m pregnant,” she said bluntly, and Severus realized two things right away.

First, this was the first time she had said it aloud. 

And second, for reasons that were a complete enigma to him, his baser instincts seemed to like the idea.


End file.
